Midnight in Paris

Yesterday I took a train into Brighton again for "Midnight in Paris" at "The Duke's". I've run out of free tickets on my membership card but it still gives me a certain amount of discount, and besides a new Woody Allen is an event that transcends mere pecuniary considerations. In recent times several of Mr Allen's yearly offerings haven't even made it to screens here (Scope and Hollywood Endings for example) so I can console myself that it isn't even an annual expense.

Was the cost and the journey justified? Oh yes! This is a little gem and wrapped me up in magic for an hour and a half from which, like some others in the audience, I was reluctant to emerge.

No doubt this is partly because of my equally blind love for Paris and that it spoke to the part of me that once really did look on Paris as a paradise for bohemians and artists where I would one day flan the boulevards and write a great novel while sitting at a pavement café. Part of the joy was probably also relief that a writer and director I hugely admire could still make these sparkling confections after he had pointed to his clay feet with clunkers like Cassandra's Dream and Match Point.

By the end of the film I had recalled my own experiences of the extraordinary magic of Paris in love-struck youth and for that alone I would have to thank the Woodmeister but it is also a neat conceit with romance, smiles, good music as ever and the fun of recognising the celebrities of an age gone by. Not that this is difficult given the penchant of characters for explicit introductions.

There was a ripple of applause from the audience as it woke from the spell of Allen's return to "magic" and, as I was leaving, a fellow audience member started talking excitedly to me about the ending: Something that has never happened to me before with reserved English viewers. Outside, one young lady said to another "I could just go straight in and watch that all over again!". Her friend agreed and said that her mother "Must go and see this one"

Image by ThomasThomas via Flickr

It remains to be seen how much of the enchantment was to do with my own feelings for Paris and desire to see a Woody Allen return to the quality of his Radio Days, Purple Rose period. I already have the opinion of one couple of friends, who loved it despite not being Allen fans. Perhaps as others see it they will bring me back to earth and force me to look at it more coldly and objectively but for the moment I am still bathed in its golden charm and wondering if I could get to Paris again soon.